


building a fire

by dedkake



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Calm Down Erik, Cold Weather, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik wishes he were in law school instead of med school, because then he would be researching the legal remedies for the doubtless thousands of violations his apartment building's slumlord owner, Sebastian Shaw, has perpetrated on his tenants. </p>
<p>On the bright side, maybe he can finally coax his bizarrely oblivious roommate, Charles into sharing his bed, or curling up together on the couch under many blankets. Purely for surviving the night, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	building a fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aesc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesc/gifts).



> I started writing this before the opening yesterday, so I hope no one minds two fills for this wonderful prompt :) I'm so glad to see you back online, aesc!

Erik is layered in Under Armour, fleece pants, flannel shirts, and wool socks and he’s still cold. The city’s setting record lows for October, but that hasn’t changed the landlord’s strict policy of no heat until November. Of course, Erik hadn’t really been bothered by that when he’d signed his lease in the blinding hot streak last July, but now he’s getting ready to sue. He’s even considered taking the LSAT and applying to law school to do it.

Charles says that they probably couldn’t win in court, but Erik doesn’t really care about Charles’ opinions on these matters because the man is a walking furnace and has no idea how cold it really is in here.

The bastard even has the audacity to grin at Erik when he walks in the door. “I love fall,” he says, sliding out of his jacket without even a shiver.

“Fuck off,” Erik grumbles, settling himself deeper into his bundle of blankets on the couch. Charles just laughs and disappears from Erik’s line of sight into the kitchen.

Usually Erik would be following close on Charles’ heels because Charles in the kitchen is a dangerous combination, but there is no way that Erik is getting up today. He’s been thinking about dinner for an hour already, but the first time he’d put a foot out of his blankets, the cold had crept up under the leg of his pants and he hadn’t been able to warm it for nearly thirty minutes.

He is not going to move and his stomach is going to have to deal with it. And the kitchen, too. Hopefully Charles won’t set it on fire—although that would at least warm the place up a bit.

Ten minutes later, Jeopardy’s over and there’s still no fire—Erik finds himself mildly disappointed.

His disappointment grows when Charles plops down on the couch beside him, causing the couch to dip and Erik’s butt to shift to a slightly cooler portion of cushion. He shoots Charles a glare through the blanket around his head. Charles is apparently unmoved.

“Have some soup,” he says instead of cowering under Erik’s wrath.

That catches Erik’s attention. Soup sounds wonderful—it’s what Erik has been thinking of making all day—but soup made by Charles, that’s a different matter altogether. Charles does not cook because he cannot cook and Erik certainly doesn’t eat what Charles cooks when he cooks because he values his stomach and taste buds too much to subject them to that kind of torture.

But— _soup_.

Charles shifts on the couch and Erik glares harder as his cushion is again moved. “Don’t worry,” Charles says lightly, “I just warmed it up. It’s from that diner down the street.”

At that, Erik drops the blankets around him, ignoring the cold in favor of the best soup the world has ever seen. It warms him from the inside, making the cold a little more bearable. Mixed with the warmth Charles’ soft laughter stirs in his stomach, it makes Erik feel a little dizzy.

Of course, Charles has no idea what he does to Erik. No matter how many hints Erik drops, or how many times he drops his pants where Charles might see, he’s gotten no response beyond some of Charles’ particular brand of friendly flirtation and a raised eyebrow. Even so, Erik can’t stop trying.

Dinner passes comfortably and Erik is feeling warm enough by the time they’ve managed to finish the whole container of soup to get up without his blankets and do the dishes. By the time he’s finished that, though, his hands and nose are freezing again and Charles has disappeared for a shower, leaving the apartment feeling even more cold and empty than before.

He slips back under his blankets and glares down at the book he’s supposed to be studying. It sits unhelpfully on the coffee table, closed and useless at this distance. After five minutes of glaring and willing the book into his hands proves fruitless, he reaches out of his blankets to grab the book and wrench it open to the right page.

When Charles steps out of the bathroom, Erik can’t help but stare, because of how hot Charles is and how _cold_ he should be. He’s wearing nothing but his pajama pants, his feet still a warm red from the hot shower and his hair curling wetly at the nape of his neck. Erik bites back the noise that rises in his throat as Charles reaches up to hang his towel on the higher of the two pegs they installed in place of towel racks.

“Don’t you have to be up at the hospital at five?” Charles asks, somehow oblivious to Erik’s staring. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

It takes Erik a moment to process the question and an even longer moment to formulate an answer because Charles is now padding across the floor toward him, reaching out—for his bag behind the couch.

“I’m not moving, if that’s what you’re asking,” Erik says, thankful he set the alarm on his phone before he wrapped himself up.

And there’s Charles’ perfect eyebrow arching up in a gesture that lets Erik know exactly how pathetic Charles thinks he is. The look alone sets Erik’s stomach fluttering and with the way it’s tempered by a small smirk at the corner of Charles’ mouth, he thinks he might be blushing. But he would never do that.

“There’s no need to be so dramatic, Erik,” Charles says, dropping to the floor to go through his bag as if it isn’t freezing down there.

Erik huffs. “Yes there is,” he replies, crossing his arms under his blankets. “Shaw is trying to kill me because he hates me and you hate me too because you’re not using all of your connections and legal assets to get Shaw removed from the building staff.”

Charles laughs again. “I don’t think Shaw is subjecting the whole building to no heat just because you refused to join his book club,” he says, sitting up to lean back against the couch, his book in front of him. “Besides, _it’s in our lease_. The time to complain was back in July.”

“See,” Erik mutters, glaring down at his own book again. “You do hate me.”

Charles just shakes his head.

Some time later, Erik finds himself startled out of a doze by a warm hand on his shoulder.

“You have to go to bed, Erik,” Charles is saying, tugging at his blankets.

That is definitely not going to happen. “I am not moving until the heat is on,” Erik grumbles, pulling his blankets closer.

Erik thinks he can hear Charles roll his eyes this time. “Come on,” Charles tries. “Think of the children. They’re going to be even more terrified if they have to look at your smile _and_ the dark circles under your eyes.”

Glaring over the top of the blankets, Erik almost relents. It is already difficult to work pediatrics when the children are afraid of him, but also it is _too cold_.

“I’m only going to bed if you get in there and warm it up for me first,” he says before he can think. When Erik realizes what he’s said, he’s sure he _does_ blush, but he hopes Charles doesn’t notice, which seems a fair bet since Charles is oblivious to everything else.

Charles stares at him for a moment. He doesn’t look shocked or angry or even particularly interested, just thoughtful. “Okay,” he says, pushing himself to his feet.

Erik blinks up at him.

“Don’t look so confused,” Charles scolds, tugging at Erik’s hand—Erik barely notices the blankets falling away as he lets himself be pulled to his feet. “We both need sleep and it _is_ getting colder. Why not?”

Because it’s a terrible idea and there’s no way Erik’s going to be able to sleep with Charles in bed with him—that’s why not. Instead of saying that, though, Erik finds himself just nodding his head, following quietly behind Charles to his bedroom.

It turns out that Charles is just as warm in bed as he looks outside of it and there really is no way that Erik is going to be able to fall asleep—not when he can’t stop wondering what it would be like to roll over into Charles’ side, to wake up pressed together, to tangle their legs together beneath the blankets. Charles, on the other hand, seems to have no problem, his breathing leveling out into a sleepful rhythm after only a few minutes.

Erik sighs in frustration, sticking as close to his edge of the bed as he can. Emma had taught him a few sleep meditations, but he can’t clear his mind enough to focus on counting his breathing or tensing his muscles—Charles is too much of a distraction, loose-limbed and warm just a foot away.

He must fall asleep at some point, because he blinks himself awake to find Charles staring at him in the dark, only a few inches between them on the bed. He’s almost convinced that he’s dreaming, but the cold air of the apartment bites in around his neck as he shifts under the covers and he knows he’s awake. They both are. Awake and in his bed and inches apart.

“May I kiss you?” Erik asks, his voice barely a whisper. Of course, when his brain catches up with what he’s just said, he scrambles for something to cover it up—there’s nothing.

But Charles is grinning at him. “Thank god,” he says, falling onto his back and smiling up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe it took me getting into bed with you for you to say that.”

“Are you saying,” Erik says slowly, counting to ten in his head, “that you’ve been planning this?” After so many years of flirting and teasing and _wanting_ , to find out that Charles has been _planning_ this is inconceivable. It’s maddening.

Charles is still smiling and Erik wants to lick it off his face—or punch it, he’s not sure which. “Don’t worry, darling,” Charles says. “I didn’t ask Shaw to keep the heat off.”

With something like a growl, Erik rolls himself up to lean in over Charles, shivering as the blankets fall away and expose him to the cold night air. He stays there, for a moment, nose inches away from Charles’, holding his gaze in the dark, before dipping in for a kiss.

He wants to go fast, bite hard into Charles’ lips and make up for lost time, but Chares’ hands come up to bracket his face and he finds himself slowing, letting Charles set a leisurely pace for their kiss.

It’s warm, Erik realizes soon. He’s starting to sweat in his triple layers and he wants to be touching Charles wherever he can. As soon as he sits back to take off his top layer, though, Charles chases him, pulling him in for another kiss.

_You have to be up in two hours_ , Charles says into his mind, his mouth still occupied. His telepathic voice is much louder like this, and it comes along with a wave of second-hand pleasure and happiness. _Think of the children._

Erik pulls back again, placing a hand on Charles’ chest to hold him steady. “If you’re going to ask me to think of children every time you kiss me, I think I’ll have to call this off.”

Charles has the gall to look chastised—it should not be as adorable as it is.

“Also,” Erik says, shimmying out of his shirt, “fuck it. What’s one day of lost sleep if I can spend the night here?”

This time, when Charles raises his eyebrow, Erik leans in and kisses it.

“Besides,” he continues between kisses down the side of Charles’ face, under his jaw, up to his lips, “I’m finally warm.”


End file.
